


Everything Under Control

by fyjerik, izukillme



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, soft boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24753688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyjerik/pseuds/fyjerik, https://archiveofourown.org/users/izukillme/pseuds/izukillme
Summary: "Remember when I told you I had everything under control? Well... I lied."
Relationships: Cobra | Erik/Jellal Fernandes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Everything Under Control

**Author's Note:**

> For anon, written by Mod Ceru on [fuckyeahjerik](fuckyeahjerik.tumblr.com).

“You’ll be okay alone?” Erik checks one last time, pinning his boyfriend with a hard stare. Jellal, thin and pale and drowning in his too-large white shirt, nods with a wan smile.

“I’ll be okay, I promise. I have everything under control. I swear.” Bright brown eyes are filled with raw earnestness, making no effort to hide either the pain or the love that brews in their depths. Erik cannot say no to Jellal when he lays himself bare before him in that fashion. 

“Okay.” Erik sighs, grabbing his bag and moving towards the door. But as he goes to put on his shoes, he stops abruptly.

_ I’m missing something! _

Without a second thought, he turns around and runs towards Jellal, whose features morph from calm to concerned.

“What’s wrong?” he asks anxiously. Erik grins at him, taking Jellal’s cheeks in his hands and bringing their faces close together.

“Forgot something important,” he says impishly, and kisses Jellal. 

There’s a cherry-red blush dusting Jellal’s cheeks when Erik pulls away, still smiling devilishly. It satisfies the little demon in his heart - making Jellal blush is his favorite pastime. He walks backwards to the door, waving a little at his boyfriend as he steps out and closes it behind him. 

The smile on Jellal’s face and the wave he receives in return is more than worth the fact that he trips and falls flat the second he’s out of the house.

Picking himself up, Erik dusts his clothes off and climbs onto his bike, Cubellios. It doesn’t take very long for him to get the old girl fired up and on the road, and the wind pulls at his hair in just the way that he likes as he speeds along the empty highways to make it in time for his shift.

It’s a small coffee shop where he works, one of those little businesses owned by locals that somehow end up being the most warm and inviting places ever. It’s funny that this one, Rosen Krone, should be, since its owner Ultear is literally the least warm and inviting person Erik knows. But that’s off-topic; today, as the chef, he gets to decide the Friday special, and he’s already planning on making apple tarts. They’re Jellal’s favourite - just imagining the soft look in brown eyes, and the silly smile he will make as he devours each one whole, makes Erik giggle to himself. 

He doesn’t even scold himself for being a sap. At this point, he’s pretty much accepted how whipped he is for his sweet blueberry boyfriend.

Erik pulls into the parking lot of the cafe and locks his bike before practically rushing inside, excitement bubbling out of his entire body as he thinks about how he’ll surprise Jellal. He doesn’t even hear Ultear’s snarky comment on his sudden enthusiasm or Sorano’s giggled, “Whipped,” as he hurriedly takes out the ingredients and starts to put together the perfect tart.

He slices the apples at the speed of light, only the sheer precision built up from years of cooking stopping him from cutting off a chunk of his finger. Tossing them into a bowl, he adds cinnamon, vanilla, brown sugar, lemon juice and a bit of salt to the mixture and shakes the bowl to mix them all up properly. He slides a lid onto the apples, allowing them to marinate, and turns to the pastry.

He’s measuring out the third cup of flour when his phone rings.   
At first, Erik clicks his tongue in annoyance, wondering who on Earth would call now. He’s cooking, and all his friends know that hell hath no fury like an Erik who is disturbed from cooking. 

Then the ringtone - Rick Astley’s  _ Never Gonna Give You Up,  _ unironically his and Jellal’s song - properly registers itself in his ears, and Erik promptly spills the cup of flour all over himself with shock.

_ Jellal?! _

He fumbles for the phone in his pocket, forgetting everything else. The world could be crashing around his ears right now and he wouldn’t care - Jellal’s calling, and that means there’s something wrong. 

Worry dampens his entire body like ice as Erik swipes the ‘Accept’ button, pressing the phone to his ear and practically barking, “Jellal! Love, what’s wrong?”

There’s a pause, during which harsh, ragged breaths that sound suspiciously like crying come through the other end. Erik doesn’t waste a second, keeping the phone in place with his shoulder as he removes his apron and hangs it up. He has to go home now; Jellal clearly needs him.

Whispered words from the other side of the line barely make it to his ears, but Erik’s hearing is far better than anyone else’s, and so it is that he clearly picks them up.

“Remember when I said I had it under control? Well, um… I might have… lied…”    
Jellal’s voice is high, notes of panic filling it. Erik’s breath stumbles over his words; he can’t get them out fast enough as he shouts into the receiver of the phone, “What happened? Are you - are you okay?!” 

“I don’t know,” Jellal whispers softly. “I don’t know. All I know is it feels like I’m  _ drowning- _ ”

“‘M coming,” Erik says firmly. He looks over at Ultear, mouthing, ‘ _ He’s not okay’ _ ; she nods gravely, motioning for him to leave. 

She’s accommodating like that. Erik couldn’t have been more grateful for it as he speeds out of the back door of the cafe, slamming his key into his bike and starting to drive haphazardly even as he keeps murmuring platitudes into the phone.

He hears Jellal hiccupping and crying. Erik’s heart breaks, imagining his boyfriend curled into himself, red-faced and blaming himself for everything that is wrong in this world. All he can do now is whisper softly, “I’m coming, love. Don’t you worry. I love you so much. You’re amazing.” 

He’s powerless over the phone, and he hates it.

Clenching his fists around the acceleration button on his bike, Erik wills Cubellios to fly faster than she has ever gone. He pushes her to the limit, not stopping for a second, breaking every traffic rule known to mankind in his single-minded determination to get home in time.

_ I’m coming, baby. Don’t worry a second.  _

Hastily pulling up in front of the house, Erik leaps off of Cubellios and rushes to the door. The bike clatters to the ground behind him; but he’ll worry about that later. For now, Jellal comes first.

Erik wrenches the door open and heads straight upstairs to the bedroom where he knows Jellal will be lying, curled in a ball and weeping softly. He’s proven right as he opens the door and shuts it with a soft click to find his boyfriend’s blue head buried in a mountain of pillows, his thin shoulders shaking weakly.

“Jellal,” he calls tenderly, making his way over to the bed with deliberate, loud steps. Jellal doesn’t like to be surprised when he’s feeling down. “Love, it’s me. I’m here.”

“Erik,” Jellal rasps out, his voice raw from crying. “I… why’d you…”

Erik perches himself on the edge of the bed and cards a hand through Jellal’s azure locks.

“‘Cause I’m your boyfriend, and I wanna be here for you when you’re not okay.”

“But I…” Jellal lifts his face, tearful brown eyes meeting gentle purple ones. “I dragged you away from work. I’m horr-”

Erik puts a finger on Jellal’s lips, shaking his head. “You’re  _ wonderful, _ ” he stresses quickly, emphasizing his point. “You’re wonderful and I love you.”

“No.” Jellal sniffles. “No. I’m terrible. I just hurt people and tear them away from things they need to do and-”

“No!” Erik cries out. He needs to stop this before Jellal starts spiralling. He can’t allow his boyfriend to go into that state again. Taking off his socks, he settles himself properly on the bed and pulls Jellal into his flour-covered chest, kissing and petting the other man with the same gentleness one would show a baby.

“No, love,” he breathes. “You’ve given me so much. You’re my world. You’re so kind and so good.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. You can find someone else, someone better to love,” Jellal hiccups. 

Erik swats his back lightly. “None of that.” he says bluntly, truthfully. “I could never love anyone else. To me, there’s no one better than you. Your love saved me more times than I can count. I love  _ you.  _ I’ll always choose you.” 

Jellal exhales into Erik’s shoulder. There’s silence for a few beats before he speaks again - 

“You really have horrible taste.”

It’s barely a whisper, more of an exhausted breath. But it’s a victory, because it means Jellal’s feeling just a bit better: and Erik will make sure to build on that bit, to keep building on it until Jellal is calm once more. And even after that, because to make his boyfriend happy is the best thing in the world, and he’ll always be here.

He doesn’t reply to Jellal’s comment, simply pulling him in closer, ensconcing him in warmth. They lie like that for awhile, just relishing in each other’s presence, Erik rubbing circles into Jellal’s back - his signal to say _‘I love you’_ when he doesn’t feel like talking. 

Jellal is Erik’s entire world: capable, bright and friendly, kind and intelligent, absolutely beautiful, basically everything anyone could want. But of all the people, it’s silly, stupid Erik who has gotten this amazing person to call his. 

So it’s okay if Jellal sometimes forgets just how much he is worth, because Erik will always, always be here to remind him.


End file.
